Read Online Forsaken by Leanna Ellis - Free Book Online

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    The teens stared at him oddly, timidly at first. They didn’t know he might be the only thing standing between them and pure evil.
    He warmed himself at the blazing bonfire the young men had started in the middle of a cleared field. Eventually they began to loosen up; whether it was the beer or simply acceptance of him he wasn’t sure, but their boisterous laughter rang out in the night. Just as Ephraim had told him, they all sported jacked-up buggies with state-of-the-art stereos and high-def speakers. Hard-edged rock music poured out, an electric guitar wailing, the music pulsing and throbbing through him. It was like a 1950s movie, minus Elvis—just kids being kids.
    He’d brought the beer as bribery to barrel through any defenses they might have about strangers, but the young men seemed more open than their elders. The clincher was the Mustang. Several of the lanky teens circled the bumper, and Roc felt obliged to leave the warmth of the fire and answer their questions.
    â€œHow many horsepower?”
    â€œHow fast can it go?”
    Speed was the same in any language or culture. Roc lifted the hood and showed them the engine, the muffler, the rims, and tires.
    â€œIt looks like it has aftermarket headers.”
    Roc grinned. They had quick minds and didn’t come close to the dumb “Jethro” he’d thought they might be. They were curious and, even inebriated, somewhat naïve.
    Finally, getting a sense he wasn’t going to get back to the warmth of the fire, he took a different track. “Wanna take a ride?”
    â€œReally?” One kid’s pupils were already dilated, and his skin flushed. “ Ja! ”
    â€œAll right then.” Roc shooed them back from the car. “Hop in.”
    â€œWhich one?” one of the boys asked.
    â€œMe!” The eager kid held out his hand. “Gonna let me drive?”
    â€œNo way. Only I drive this baby.”
    With a no-big-deal shrug, the kid climbed into the passenger seat, grinning from ear to ear.
    â€œWhat’s your name?”
    â€œAdam.”
    â€œAll right, Adam. Buckle up.”
    So began a line of eager young men—Joshua, Luke, Zachariah, James, Caleb—who wanted a taste of life in the fast zone. It was hard to differentiate between the boys at first as they all had similar haircuts: straight across the brow line, then longer and cut straight across the back. Either they all had the same barber or this was another one of their many rules; he’d learned they went by what their leadership, the Ordnung , told them. But he gave them credit: they didn’t scare easily. Instead, they whooped and hollered as Roc pushed the edge. They won his respect as he won their confidence.
    After punching the accelerator and turning deserted roads into a local drag, he U-turned like James Bond on a high-stakes pursuit, then took it slow on the way back to the field, put-putting along Sunflower and Stone Haven Roads, half afraid of running into a buggy in the dark. They steered clear of Slow Gait, where he’d been earlier in the day, before the wedding, although the name sorely tempted him to give it a taste of the Autobahn. The boys showed him Hallelujah Creek, which bisected the community, winding past the local cemetery and an old, broken-down mill.
    By the time he’d given them all rides, he’d learned much of the Amish lifestyle, how they used propane to fuel refrigerators as well as farm equipment, how they would probably each abandon their running around and join the church and community through baptism, and how they only went to school through the eighth grade. If he’d been a teen again, he’d have gladly given up school for this lifestyle. At least temporarily.
    Holding a beer and pocketing his keys, Roc leaned back against the driver’s door, watching the boys still admiring every aspect of the Mustang. “I hear an Amish teen went missing not too long